


Sorta Like James Dean

by cannedsquid



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Road Trips, Slow Burn, idk what to tag ill be honest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24651151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedsquid/pseuds/cannedsquid
Summary: Monday, May 25, 1970.Ponyboy's got plans to ditch Tulsa. He's convinced there's nothing here for him but a past he can't escape and endlessly being asked what he wants to do with his life. He doesn't know where he's going, but he does know he's gonna drive 'til the money runs out. Right before he plans to leave, he meets Randy again for the first time in years. While a little awkward at first, they realize they're more similar than they thought. Without much thinking, they decide to rush out of town together.But can you even really run away from your past?
Relationships: Randy Adderson/Ponyboy Curtis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. 30 Bucks

_Monday, May 25, 1970._

I stood at the bottom of the steps to Steve’s place. It was just the first floor of a two story house he was renting, but it was a pretty nice place to get his bearings. I wondered for a second how much a place like that was going for. Maybe if I used my savings and got a place instead…

I shook the thought from my mind. I came there for a reason, not to admire how Steve was doing for himself. I took a breath and knocked on the door. 

“Just a second!” Steve hollered from a ways inside. I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked around while I waited. I noticed a bunch of old license plates in the front windows from all over the place...Texas, Arkansas, New Mexico, Kansas, there was one all the way from Minnesota...the door opening brought me back to reality. 

“Oh, heya, Pony,” Steve said with a smile. “What brings you--”

“If I promise you 30 bucks and that I’d stay out of your hair for the rest of your life, would you be willing to tune up a car for me?” I said before Steve could even finish his sentence. Steve looked taken aback for a second by my directness. He stood blinking at me before he answered. 

“Do you need me to look at the Ford? Ya know you don’t have to pay me to do that, Pony,” Steve looked past me to see that I hadn’t driven the old Ford over. He glanced back at me, puzzled. 

“I’m getting a used car, I’ll have it by the end of next week,” I explained. 

Steve grinned. “Finally getting yourself a ride! Exciting. Now I know I didn’t spend a week teaching you to drive for nothing,” he joked. “What are we talking? Total junker? The 30 bucks your offering makes it sound like it's gonna be a real pain or something.”

“It doesn’t need anything major, just a quick look. I don’t wanna get on the highway and have something go wrong.”

“Highway?" His expression turned slightly confused. "Where are you headed?” 

I shrugged. “Dunno yet. I’m just leaving Tulsa.” 

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and leaned against the doorframe. “What do you mean you’re ‘just leaving Tulsa’? Why?”

“I mean I’m leaving. I’ve been saving money for a real long time now, more than enough to get a car, and I’m gonna pack my bags and drive till I get somewhere.” Steve was still staring at me like I grew an extra head. 

“Drive till you get--? Ponyboy what on God’s green earth are you talking about?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m talkin’ about I’m getting the hell outta dodge. I’ve done my time, I’m done with school, now I’m leaving. Didn’t think I stuttered or anything.”

His scowl turned from confused to angry for a second. “Don’t give me lip, kid. I’m trying to figure out what you mean by leave. You’re going on a road trip? Sightseeing? Gone a few weeks and coming home? Or are you talking---”

“I’m leaving. I’ll come back to visit once and awhile, holidays or whatever, but I’m leaving. For good.” I think Steve finally got what I was trying to say. At least, I hope he did, ‘cause I didn’t think I could say it any plainer if I tried. He chewed the inside of his cheek like he was trying to digest what I’d just told him. He must’ve not known what to say to that. 

"So you don't know where you're going, but you know you're not coming back."

"Yessir, that's what I said," I answered snarkily. I was starting to get sick of repeating this to him. 

He narrowed his eyes. "With no clue about cars, the worst sense of direction I've ever witnessed personally, and less common sense than a rock."

"Y'ain't gotta be mean about it, Steve. All I'm asking is for you to look at an engine. I didn't come over to get your blessing or anything." 

"I'm not being mean, I'm using my head. What do you plan to do if you break down on the road?" 

I shrugged. "I'll figure it out." 

"Seems to be the attitude of this whole idea. You don't have a solid clue about anything you're doing right now." He shook his head and didn't say anything for a bit. I thought maybe he was done chewing my ear off. 

"So are you gonna look at it or not?" I asked. 

Steve didn't give me an answer. “What about your brothers?” He wasn't gonna stop asking about everything, I guess. 

“What about them? We’re all grown, Steve. We aren’t codependent.”

“Yeah but...y’know…” He scratched the back of his head while he looked for the right words. “From what Soda’s been tellin’ me, it's not like it's been a walk in the park these days.”

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”  
“I’m just saying, you already got these problems you ain’t sorted out, on top of that you got the draft to worry about. Ain’t that enough stress for you three?”

“I know but…” I sighed. “Quite frankly, I don’t wanna sit around, waiting for our family to get torn apart at the seams,” I half-muttered.

“So you’re accelerating the problem,” Steve stated. I opened my mouth, but didn’t say anything. Steve sighed. “I’m not gonna change your mind, I know. I’ll fix your car, Ponyboy.”

“Thanks, Steve. I’ll bring it and the money around when I--”

“I don’t want your money, Ponyboy. I’ll fix your car, on the condition that you stick around at least till the end of summer. Think this through. Maybe come up with a concrete plan.”

I looked back at Steve, scrunching my eyebrows in anger. “I’m not making that promise.”

“Ponyboy…”

“No, Steve, I’ll find someone else to do it. Thanks anyway,” I turned away and started my walk home. 

“Ponyboy! For Christ’s sake…”

I stared at my feet as I walked, trying to search through my mind for someone else who could fix the car up for me. Sodapop already said he wasn’t going to fix it for me. He didn’t want me leaving either, and he especially didn’t wanna do something that would leave Darry pissed off. Course, if Soda wasn’t going to look at it, there was no way in hell Darry would. Two-bit would probably say yes, no questions asked, but I never really trusted his abilities when it came to cars. Maybe I’d just have to risk it and take it on the road without any tuning up. When it broke down, that’s where I’d set up camp. There, I thought to myself. Now everyone can stop badgering me about having a destination. 

When I walked in, Sodapop was sprawled out on the couch, his DX shirt half unbuttoned, one leg over the back of the couch and the other over the arm. He was half-watching the news, not really listening as the anchor droned on about something or another. 

“Hey, Ponyboy!” he yelled as I kicked off my shoes. 

“Hey, Soda,” I said back. He sat up to give me a spot to sit down. 

“Where were you?” 

“I went to talk to Steve.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…” There was an awkward pause. This was sort of a sour subject between the three of us. I guess that you might expect that, though.  
“What’d he say about it?” Soda wasn’t looking at me. He was suddenly staring intently at the TV, like he cared more about the weather report then he did about my answer. 

“He said he wouldn’t look at it,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell him about the ultimatum Steve had given me. Or his interrogation. My brothers already thought I was being pig headed about this whole thing. They didn't need any more allies. 

All he said in response was “Hm…” He was frowning now, too.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I turned to try to look him in the eye. He was still scowling at the TV. 

“It's not nothin’, Sodapop. I can tell it ain’t nothin’.”

He sighed and started getting up. “You know exactly what it is, Ponykid. No one wants you to do this...to just up and leave like this.” He turned off the TV and started walking to the kitchen. I think he was trying to end the conversation, but I just couldn’t help but get frustrated. I’d heard this more times in the last two months than I’d heard any other phrase in my lifetime.

“Why is it always about what everyone else wants? What everyone else is thinkin’?” He stopped in the doorway, not turning for a moment. Maybe he was thinking about how he was gonna respond.

“Because,” he finally said, turning his head to the side so he could see me. “We care about you, Pony, and we wanna see you go somewhere in life.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do. Y’all don’t even try to see it from my point of view, you just want me to do things your way.” The front door had opened and closed as I said that. 

“We’re having this fight again?” Darry grumbled as he walked in. 

“We’re not fighting, Darry,” I bit back. “We’re just talking.” He rolled his eyes in turn.

“Sure don’t sound like just talking with that tone,” he tossed his keys down on the side table. I turned my head to look at him. It looked like he was just gonna walk right through afterwards, but I didn't want him to. I was sick of everyone treating me like I was stupid today. 

"I just don't get it. I don't get why you're all acting like I'm throwing my future away just 'cause I'm not staying here," I almost yelled. 

"Because you are," Darry snapped back. 

I opened my mouth to argue, but Sodapop interrupted. "Can we please just drop it?" He practically sighed the words. "I shouldn't have said anything." Then he walked out of the room. After a few more moments, we heard his bedroom door close. I looked over at Darry again. He'd stopped where he was and was staring at where Sodapop had been with a frown. He glanced over at me, catching my eye, and looking back again. I was pretty sure he was blaming me for that in his head. He always seemed to be blaming me for things these days. I got up and left the room as well. 

As I closed the door to my bedroom I noticed that a box was sticking halfway out from under my bed. The notebook with my theme paper from freshman year was sitting out on the bed. Soda must have been reading it again...I pulled the box out the rest of the way with my foot to put it back. I took the lid off and looked at the contents for a moment. It held the copy of Gone With The Wind that Johnny gave me, a deck of cards, and my theme paper, all wrapped up in the shirt I borrowed--well, I guess I sorta stole--from Buck. Everything physical I still had from that week all those years ago...and the memory of it. I didn’t like thinking about it all, I stopped liking thinking about it the moment I turned in my paper. Course, nobody would let me forget about it. Someone caught wind about what my theme was about and suddenly the whole world wanted to read it. I never let anyone, though. Not even my brothers. That’s why Soda started sneaking into my room and reading it when I wasn’t around. 

I wished he would remember to put it back when he was done, though. 

I picked it up to put it back in the box with everything else. I fanned through the pages quickly, half tempted to open it up to the first page for a moment. Then I shook my head, stacked it on top of everything else, and covered it back up with the shirt. Putting the lid back on and shoving it back under the bed, I turned my thoughts to something more important. I needed to figure out what I was bringing with me. I didn’t want to deal with boxes or give anyone reason to try to break into my car, so I had planned on only bringing what I could fit between a backpack and Mom’s old carpet bag suitcase. I opened a dresser drawer and began piling up my clothes.

***

_Tuesday, May 26, 1970_

I wandered half-aimlessly around the convenience store the next afternoon, hoping in the back of my mind that the clerk up front wasn’t thinkin’ I was trying to shoplift. I’d needed smokes, but I was looking to pay for ‘um, honest. I wandered up and down the aisles while I was there, trying to figure out if there were any odds and ends I needed to take with me. I was coming up sort of blank. That’s what made me worry that I looked suspicious. Did that guy recognize me from the old gang? I’d been here with Two-bit more times than I could count just cause he wanted to lift stuff back in the day. He might remember me. He might just read me as a hood, too…

I tried to shake away my paranoia. If I acted nervous I’d give him a reason to think all that. Anyway, I knew full and well I didn’t look like a hood as much as I thought I did. I never had. I stared down at shelves in front of me. None of it really struck me as something I would need. Just then, I realized I should get a lighter for the road. With determination, I marched back up to the front of the store. Maybe I should finally get a Zippo. Something sturdy that was hard to lose… 

I was looking at the selection of lighters, when suddenly I heard someone behind me. “Ponyboy?” a male voice I didn’t recognize said. I turned to look immediately. The only people these days who didn’t call me Curtis were my brothers and Soda’s friends, and I knew it wasn’t any of them.

Standing in front of me was a face I hadn’t seen in years, and honestly it was a face I’d only seen briefly anyway. Randy Adderson was staring at me, half a smile on his face. He didn’t look all that different, least, from what I remembered. His hair was a little longer, but it was styled almost the same. Even though I’d grown since I last saw him, he still had a bit of height on me. 

When I didn’t respond right away, he smiled and rolled his eyes at himself. “Oh, you probably don’t remember me, huh. I’m Randy Adderson? I was part of that whole--”

“Oh, no, I remember you Randy, I was just surprised, it's been years…” I tried to remember when the last time I saw him was. I couldn’t remember seeing him after the trial all those years back. Had that really been the last time I’d seen him?

“Yeah...maybe ‘cause I graduated a while before you…” He said. “You cut your hair,” he noted. I nodded. I’d started keeping it cut cleaner these days, more like how Darry had his. 

“You grew yours out,” I commented. 

He laughed a little. “Yeah. It's almost like we traded or something.”

I put my hands in my back pockets. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around at all...where’ve you been?” I only half remembered him saying something about leaving town all those years ago. Maybe that’s where he went.

“Ah, I’ve been around,” is all the answer he gave me. I started to ask again, maybe with more emphasis on the where, but he spoke again before I could. “We should catch up sometime. Things have really changed since then…” He sort of trailed off most of his sentences, like he had more to say or like what he was saying was real profound. I found it kinda strange. 

I shrugged. “That’d be nice. I’m free all week, honestly.”

“Wanna come chill out at the lake tomorrow night? Me and my friends are always hangin’ around there. It’s pretty laid back.” He suggested. “I can come pick you up if you want.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds real cool actually. I guess you’ll need my address…” I felt my jean pockets, in case I had a pen. I didn’t, and was about to turn and ask the clerk at the counter if he had something I could use quickly. Before I could though, Randy pulled a black marker out of his pocket.

“Don’t worry, I got this. Here,” He handed me the marker and rolled up his sleeve. I watched him, confused, as he held his forearm out to me. “Just write it on my arm, can’t lose it then.” I furrowed my brow for a moment, then just went ahead and uncapped the pen. As I scrawled my address on his arm, I noticed all the other things written in the same messy handwriting all over it. There were some things that looked like notes-to-self, but some of them were just flat out weird. One of them read “goose bicycle,” another “car that runs on grass clippings,” and more nonsense. I didn’t ask what it meant. I’m sure whatever it was made sense to him. 

He looked at his arm quickly before rolling his sleeve back down. "I'll swing by around 7 tomorrow, if that's cool."

***

_Wednesday, May 27, 1970_

I was never quite sure what to do during the day anymore. Even after graduation, when school could no longer take up most of my time, I was picking up as many hours as I could at work. But I’d put in my two weeks notice and was done bagging groceries as of last Monday. Now I spent the days floating around the house while Soda and Darry worked. 

I was pacing around, maybe waiting for inspiration to strike, maybe just hoping time would pass faster. Waiting to get the hell out of here made the days seem to drag on, painfully slow and tense. The closer it got to the day, the farther away it all seemed. Today, it was amplified by the fact that I was waiting till 7 for something. I started cleaning up, just so I wasn’t sitting around doing nothing and staring at the TV. I started collecting all the dishes that were laying on just about every horizontal surface possible. Sodapop has an awful habit of leaving them everywhere. 

As I turned on the water to wash the dishes, I wondered if there was anyone I wanted to talk to again before I left. Quite honestly, I didn’t talk to enough people to have all that many loose ends to tie up. I had my school friends, but they weren’t the type who’d hang with me outside of school. I hadn’t really had a lot of friends like that since Mark…

Cathy and Curly came to mind, for almost the same reason. Neither one of them wanted to talk to me, and I knew that. After last summer...I shook my head. I’d hurt Cathy too bad for her to ever want to even look at me again. I think Curly was scared of me now. Or maybe he was scared of what he felt with me...I wasn’t sure, honestly. I don't think I'd ever really know. He’d completely given me the cold shoulder. I shouldn’t have even told them about it. I should’ve just swallowed it down and acted normal. Nothing would’ve ever happened. 

I snapped out of my thoughts for a minute, realizing how hard I was scrubbing the plate in my hand. I let out a sigh. I decided I should just leave well enough alone with those two. Most people around here weren’t exactly tolerant about things like that. It was probably a blessing that they just stopped talking to me and didn’t decide to spread it around or anything. Maybe if I left it be I wouldn’t get myself anymore hurt about it. 

I heard the door slam shut and loud shuffling at the front of the house. Sodapop was home. I could tell it was him before he even shouted, announcing it. I glanced at the clock. 5 PM. 

“Hey Pony, you home?” Soda shouted from the living room. 

I turned off the water. “Yeah, I’m in the kitchen,” I hollered back. I grabbed the dish towel that was hanging on the oven door handle to dry my hands. Soda came walking in, with a bounce in his step, and ruffled my hair like I was 12 or something. I scowled and ran my hand through it to fix it.

“What’ve you been up to today?” He asked, hopping up and sitting on the counter next to me. Darry hated when he did that, but that never stopped him. 

I shrugged. “I mostly just hung around,” I playfully smacked him with the towel and added, “Cleaned up your mess.” I put the towel back where it had been. “How was work?” I asked. Sodapop still worked at the DX station. He was working toward getting a managerial position, and from what he’d been telling me, he wasn’t that far off from it. 

“Same old. There’s this new kid I’m training, though,” he rolled his eyes and gave me an exasperated look. “He’ll talk just about anyone’s ear off if you give him the window to. Ask him one question and you’re stuck with him talkin’ at you for the next hour. I hope he can learn to shut up when it comes to customers, ‘cause he’s not even using that non stop mouth to say anything anyone coming in’ll care about.” I wondered if Soda even liked working there anymore. I know that he used to. But nowadays, he’s got a bone to pick with just about everyone there. He told me he was working to be a manager ‘cause the pay was good, and he might be able to live on his own with the better paycheck. He never said anything about really wanting the job. “I swear, I know his whole life’s story already, and he’s been there a week.”

“How old is he?” 

“I dunno. Maybe 15? That’s probably the one thing he hasn’t told me. I could more confidently tell you how he likes his eggs than I could his age.” 

“Maybe he’ll grow outta it,” I suggested. “Or at least, maybe he’ll run out of things to talk about soon.”

Sodapop snorted. “Yeah right. If Two-bit never learned to shut up, I have a hard time believing that this kid has any hope.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s all that’s really new at the station.” 

"Oh, you wanna hear something crazy? I forgot to tell you this yesterday," I leaned back on the edge of the sink. "I dunno if you remember him, but I saw Randy Adderson for the first time in years the other day."

He furrowed his brow, trying to remember who I was talking about. "Randy Adderson…" he scratched the back of his head. "Ain't that one of the guys who tried to drown you?" 

"I mean," I bit the inside of my cheek. That hadn’t even come across my mind when I’d seen him. It suddenly made the whole interaction seem a little strange in hindsight. "I guess he was. But I mean, we killed his best friend, so I'm thinkin' we're probably about even in that sense of it." I said it so casually, almost like it was a joke. I regretted it right after I did. We didn't hardly talk about all that as it stood. It didn’t feel right to make it seem like nothing. “If he’s willing to talk to me after that happened to him, I don’t think there’s much sense in me holding a grudge for getting a little wet.” I shrugged. “I just thought it was interesting to see him again after all this time, is all. I don’t think I even saw him again after the trial.”

“Hm.” He was running his hands through his hair and looking off, like he was chasing some train of thought. I wasn’t sure how much he liked my response. I couldn’t really read his expression. I wouldn’t have called it overjoyed, though. “What’d he say?” 

I shrugged. “Just that it’d been a while. That we should catch up sometime. We were in a store, we didn’t really have much of a conversation.”

Sodapop got off the counter and turned his attention to the fridge. I started to walk out of the room, when suddenly I remembered something. 

"Hey, is Darry working late tonight?" I asked. 

"Yeah, he's doing books. Why?" 

"I'm going out tonight, I'll be gone a while. Tell him I'll be back before midnight, probably. Y'all don't have to sit up for me, I'll grab the extra key before I go." 

He turned his head to look at me. "Where are you going?" 

"Just out."

***

Randy came by a little earlier than 7. I was expecting him to knock on the door or something when he showed up, but instead he just laid on the horn. Scared me half to death, I practically ran out the door, barely remembering to grab a jacket on the way out. He had this real nice lookin' van, a Dodge, probably a '66 or '67, in a cool dark blue with white accents. I took a moment to admire it before hopping in.

"Nice ride," I said as I closed the door. 

"Thanks," Randy replied with a smile. "First car I ever got with my own money,” There was pride in his eyes as he said that. “Sorry for the mess,” he apologized, moving the stuff off the dashboard in front of me and throwing it in the back. “Oh,” he added, “sorry if it smells like dope in here. It's from the dope.” I nodded. The whole van did smell really faintly like weed, but I don’t think I would’ve noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out. 

“It's fine, don’t worry about it.” It was quiet for a long while, and at least to me, it felt real awkward. I stared at the road ahead, searching through my mind for something else to say. I was wondering if I was going to regret this. I definitely would if it was going to be like this… 

“So, is this anything like the big parties y’all used to throw down by the lake? I remember hearing about how wild those got,” I asked. 

Randy shook his head. “Nah, I don’t hang with anyone who throws parties like that anymore. It’s a lot more chill. We get a bonfire going, we usually just talk and relax. Sometimes people bring guitars and there’s a little jam session,” he leaned forward slightly, squinting at the road, then taking a turn. “We don’t get outta control like that these days.”

Randy parked his van next to a pickup behind a small house. I could see a fire blazing a ways off, closer to the water, with at least a dozen people around it. Randy opened the door, but before he got out, he honked his horn once. A few people turned to look at us, others waved. Randy closed his door and fumbled with his keys for a moment. I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked off at them in the distance. 

“What happened to the old crowd you hung with? The other Socs, or whatever?” I asked as we started walking through the grass.

“Some of them graduated and moved away for school. Some of them just sorta stopped talking to me. Especially after I stopped wanting to start shit all the time.”

“Oh…”

He shrugged. “We woulda fallen out of touch anyway. Hey, dude,” he flashed a peace sign at someone as we walked by them. “Who all did you know...I think Sherri is going to school to be a teacher. She went to some women's college for it. Haven’t talked to Marcia since we broke up.” He listed off a few other names and where he was pretty sure they went. Andy was going to law school, David was going into his dad’s business, Mattie had enlisted in the military. 

“Hey Randy, who's the new cat?” Someone hollered at us, interrupting Randy. 

“Oh, this is Ponyboy. He’s cool. Old friend.” I waved shyly. Old friend was sort of generous, I thought. Randy grabbed a couple of chairs and pulled them next to each other. 

"Ponyboy..." she echoed. "That's wicked." The girl turned to someone behind her. "Marty, get these two a couple of drinks. Ponyboy, are you like, drinking age?" She tilted her head, jet black hair falling around her shoulders. 

"There's an age you're supposed to be for that?" I joked. 

She laughed. "I'll remember that for next time. There's been a divide about whether or not to like, bring booze lately. One more vote in our corner." A tall, dark haired guy handed her two beers. She handed me one, and held on to the other. I looked to my side and saw Randy had gone to talk to a few people closer to the water. "I'm Diana, that's Marty," she pointed her thumb at the guy who brought over the drinks. Marty gave me a nod. Diana was small and pretty, wearing a red flannel that she was practically swimming in. “Your name sounds familiar…” she mused. “Like I know you from something.”

I sighed, sitting down. “I was part of this big thing a few years back,” I explained. “It was a big case, it was a headline for a while.” It felt like I could never escape it. Even if people didn’t know me, they seemed to know my name. I cracked open my beer and went on. “I don’t really like talking about it much. That’s when I met Randy, actually.” Diana nodded. 

“I can dig it. We all got our baggage, man.” Randy came back and sat down. She leaned forward and tossed him his drink, which he just barely caught. He looked at it, then chucked it right back. 

"Diana, I gotta drive tonight." 

She shrugged and opened it herself. “Suit yourself. So how long y’all known each other?”

Randy scrunched up his face like he was thinking real hard. “When was all that…? Three years ago?”

“Four,” I corrected. “Four years. But this is the first time I’ve seen you since then. That still baffles me. Haven’t seen you at all. You been at college or something?” I asked. “What are you studying?”

Randy shook his head. “I didn’t go to college. My parents really wanted me to, but I’ll be honest, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do and hadn’t made any kinda plans senior year anyway. Didn’t apply for anything.” He laughed a little. “That really pissed ‘em off. I guess it was probably the trust fund I wasted.”

"You been working then?" 

"Yeah, on and off. Lotta odd jobs. I get bored too quick to keep anything for too long. Can’t really live without cash, though." 

“Makes sense. I was working and saving pretty much nonstop up till graduation,” I said. 

“You got college plans then?” 

“Nope,” I answered plainly. “I’m planning on just gettin outta town.”

“Where to?” Randy seemed really interested in this.

“I dunno yet. I’m just gonna drive till my money runs out. I’m getting a car next week and then I’m leaving.”

“That’s dope, man…” Randy’s eyes had this glint of excitement. “I wanted to do that way back in the day...still kinda do…”

“Oh, yeah, you told me that, before the rumble. How did that end up?” I figured from the way he said it, he must not have been successful.

“I barely got outta here before my dad sent some of his buddies after me,” he scowled and stared at his feet as he kicked a small rock. “I hope you get a little farther than I did. You don’t got anyone who's gonna chase you down for your car, do ya?”

I chuckled a little. “I don’t think so. Just my brothers who think they can find the magic string of words to keep me here. Y’know, you’re the first person who hasn’t told me I was being stupid about this.”

“Probably because I’d do the same thing if I were you. Hell, I’d do the same thing if I were me. I already tried. I say more power to you.” He absent mindedly picked up a twig and tossed it into the slowly diminishing flames. Someone got up and prodded at the fire until it began to burn bright again. They carefully propped a new log against the ones that were already smoldering. 

I studied Randy as he watched the kid tending to the fire. He had his face cupped in his hands, an easy smile across it. Everything about him seemed like that--easy-going. He turned his head, flashing me a wide smile. I couldn’t help but smile back. There was a softness to his features, not like I saw in movie stars or any of the guys you were supposed to wanna look like. But boy, he still looked handsome. His deep brown eyes flickered golden in the firelight, half lidded and almost half hidden by dark brown curls. Freckles dappled his cheeks and nose. 

“You know,” Randy said, pulling me back to the conversation. “I saw this film the other day, it was pretty interesting…”

***

I hung around till close to 1 am, mostly just talking and listening to stories. Randy gave me a ride home. It wasn’t anywhere near as awkward as the ride down.

“I just, really think it could work, man!” Randy exclaimed with a chuckle. “If you could get enough grass, and you really compact it, I think you could do it.” He was explaining some of the notes on his arm to me now. I think, though, as he really went into the details of “car that runs on grass clippings,” he was realizing its flaws. 

“Okay, but what about ‘goose bicycle?’ That one’s been driving me crazy since I saw it.” 

“Honestly? I don’t even remember that one. I was flying when I wrote that down. I was hoping I’d remember it sometime soon.” He pulled up and parked right behind our Ford. The light was on, and I could see Darry was still sitting up inside.

“Y’know, I really liked hangin’ with y’all tonight. It’d be cool to come chill with you again before I leave.”

“Oh, you totally should. We do this a lot, actually. Here, I’ll give you my number, just give me a ring when you wanna chill again.” He dug his marker out of his pocket and grabbed my arm. I tensed up a little, surprised by the sudden touch. He scrawled his phone number on my forearm in his messy handwriting, ending it with a little smiley face. “There.”

I looked at it and smiled back at the little doodle. “Thanks man, and thanks for inviting me. It was really cool.” 

“Nah, thanks for comin’ along. You’re a real cool cat, Ponyboy.”

I hopped out of the car, waving as I walked up to the house. He flashed me a peace sign and pulled off. My smile started to melt away as I walked up to the door. I could feel the tension before I even laid my hand on the doorknob. 

“Where’ve you been?” Darry asked as soon as I walked in. 

“I was out. I saw Randy again the other day, he invited me to hang out at the lake with his friends and catch up. It was chill.” I explained, walking right past him. I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. 

“Hm…” is all he said at first. 

“G’night Darry.”

“Pony?”

I stopped in my tracks. “Yeah?”

“You could’ve at least told us where you were going,” he stated simply. 

I turned my head to look at him where I stood. “I can handle myself Darry. I’m not a little kid. It's not like I gotta get home in time to do my homework.”

“I know you’re not a little kid,” He said back. “I just wanna know where you are so I know that you’re safe. I won’t have that luxury soon enough.”

I scowled. There was a pang of guilt in my chest. I didn’t want to admit it, but he had a point. I tried to shake away the feeling. I wasn’t going to let myself be guilted into this right now. I took a deep breath and turned away again. “Whatever. Goodnight.”


	2. See You Soon :)

_Friday, May 29, 1970._

I stared down at my forearm and the number scrawled across it, tracing the smile at the end with my finger. The ink was starting to fade from a day of wear, but it was still clear enough to read. I was sort of anxious to hang out with Randy again, for reasons I couldn’t exactly pinpoint. There was something about it that was comfortable. Maybe because our house had been so tense these past few months. Regardless, I stared at the number, trying to get the nerve to dial it, till it stopped making sense to my eyes. Finally I just picked up the phone. There was no point in me thinking about it. He’d said I could call him if I wanted to hang again. I wasn’t sure why I was making myself nervous.

The dial tone rang on the other side. I started tapping a steady rhythm with my foot, counting the number of times it rang. One...two...three…

“Hello?” The voice that answered was definitely not Randy. It was deeper than his by a long shot.

“Oh, uh, is Randy around?” I asked, chewing my lip a little. 

“Nah, I can take a message though. If you’d like.”

“Uh, yeah that’d be great. Tell him I just wanted to see about swinging by tonight, is all.”

“Sure thing. Can I get a name, dude?”

“Curt--” I stopped myself before I automatically gave him just my last name. “Ponyboy.”

“A-ha! It’s Ponyboy....” he said, almost victoriously. “Groovy, I’ll get that to him, don’t even worry about it. Peace, man.”

“Oh, thanks,” I replied. “Peace.” There was a click, and the tone rang in my ear.

***

Just like the other night, just before 7, Randy rolled up outside and laid on the horn. I grabbed my jacket and started making my way out the door, breezing past Sodapop entirely. “Where are you going?” He asked.

“Out.” That’s all I told him. The door slammed behind me and I waved to Randy as I walked up to the van. 

"Hey, man," he said as I hopped in. "Glad you could make it out again." 

"So am I," I said as I closed the door. Just like the last time, he grabbed the stuff off the dashboard and threw it into the back. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologized. I shrugged.

“It's your car, man.” Silence fell between us for a bit. I looked out the window, trying to find something to talk about before it started feeling awkward. Luckily, Randy spoke first. 

“You were a smash hit last time,” He said with a laugh. “People were asking me where you were yesterday. They were all, yo why didn’t you bring Ponyboy? Where was that cool cat from last time? Where’s the Stallion at?”

I laughed at first, then the last comment hit me. “Wait, wait...The Stallion?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then started laughing. “Oh, man, I forgot to tell you about all that. Some of my buddies--I don’t know if you met them. Some friends of mine, Archie and Piper, they were doing some serious talk about you. Piper was sitting near Diana most of the night I think, when you were there. She wants you to be her muse for her art or something like that now. Started calling you the Stallion.”

“That’s very…”

Randy was still laughing about it. “Piper’s kind of a character like that. She said you have some kinda mysterious quality she likes. I asked her if she even actually said anything to you, and she said she didn’t need to. She could just tell.”

“Well, I guess I’m flattered she thinks that about me,” I said. It seemed kinda strange to me, that she was building this idea of me out of nowhere, but at least she didn’t hate me or something.

“Just don’t take her up on any offers to be her muse. She’s gonna try to get you to pose in the nude, maybe with a cat or a bird or something.” I gave him a questioning look. “I learned that the hard way.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. 

Randy parked in the same spot he had the other night and honked at the people sitting out at the lake. I opened the door on my side, but he hesitated, squinting out the windshield. He threw the car door open and strained his eyes to see off in the distance. The sun was barely setting, but people were putting out the fire already. "What are they…" Randy started to say as we began walking down to them. "Yo, what's going on?" He hollered when we were closer. 

Putting a hand up to block the descending sun, a tall blonde turned to look at us. "Hey Randy! Is that Ponyboy with ya?" he hollered back. 

"What are you doing, Archie?" Randy asked again. People had started grabbing folding chairs and were migrating a ways down from the usual spot. 

"Packin' up and moving down to the dock!" Archie said, poking at the now extinguished embers with a big stick. 

"I can see that. Why, man?" We'd finally made it close enough that they didn't need to shout. Archie stirred around the ashes until he decided the fire was totally out. He dropped his stick to the ground and wiped his hands on his jeans. 

"We got wind that the cats across the lake were gonna set off fireworks later. We ain't sure if it's true, but if it is, we'll get a better look at 'em down there. If not, nothin' wrong with a change of pace, you catch my drift?" 

"I can dig it," Randy squinted and looked out at the dock where everyone was setting up again. He nudged me with his elbow. "Let’s get moving then," he said, as Archie started walking off. I shoved my hands in my pockets as we walked after him. 

"So," Archie said, walking backwards to talk to us, "you're the famous Ponyboy. I'm Archie, I'm who you caught on the ringer this afternoon." He held out his fist to me. I hesitated for a moment, then gave him a fist bump. 

"Nice to meet you in person. Are you guys roommates, then?" 

Archie snorted. "Randy wouldn't let himself be tied down like that. He's too free to get himself a permanent address or anything, man!" I raised an eyebrow, shooting Randy a confused-but-amused glance. 

"Archie, just give it to him straight," Randy said, rolling his eyes. "Nah, we ain't roommates. I live outta my van, Archie and his actual roommates just take my calls for me," Randy explained, "And they let me use their place as my mailing address." 

"Randy's all about having nothin' and no ties, Ponyboy," Archie started explaining to me. "He's always preaching to us, you can't live your life to the fullest if you've got somebody who you owe something to. Rent, your 9 to 5, your mom-n-pop's expectations. You can't really live your best life till you're on the same level as everyone else you let into it."

"Archie, man, you sure can talk someone to death," Randy commented. 

"I'm just tellin' him your gospel. He's got a lot of ideas in that head of his. Sometimes he'll just get on a soapbox and everyone will stop whatever they're talking about and listen. Then he takes us on some kinda journey every time. The way he talks—it's like magic. And the stuff he says always makes so much sense." Archie had a big grin, talking about Randy’s "gospel" as he'd called it. The whole time Randy seemed embarrassed about it. Maybe he was flattered or he was being humble or something. 

"You're making me sound like a miracle worker or somethin', dude. I just speak my truth, is all." 

"Ponyboy, you should get this guy talking some time. It'll change your whole life," Archie told me, earning another eye roll from Randy. Someone called out to him just then, and off Archie jogged ahead of us. 

"Well, he thinks pretty highly of you," I said with a laugh. 

"Archie's such a cheese," he replied. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed by what he'd said about him or if he really was being humble. 

"I dunno, seems like the truth to me. I mean," I said with a grin, "You had me pretty hooked on your grass car idea the other day." He laughed in response.

"If you say so…" 

The conversation fell away between us, and we kept walking along in silence. I glanced out over the lake for a second, then tried to guess how much longer of a walk we had. The dock we were headed towards was quite a bit away from the spot we'd started in, and we were walking at a pretty leisurely pace toward it. I looked over again at Randy, looking to find something to strike up a conversation again. He was scrunching his eyebrows all up, like he was thinking about something or another. 

"Something wrong?" I asked. 

He shook his head. "Nah, not at all. There's this new tune by The Beatles on the radio, I got it stuck in my head is all." We kept walking along, and Randy started humming the start of something. Probably the tune that was stuck in his head. " _When I find myself in times of trouble_ ," Randy started crooning. " _Mother Mary comes to me_ ," he gave me a grin. His voice was nice, sorta light and mellow. With a bit of a laugh he threw an arm over my shoulder. “ _Speaking words of wisdom, let it be...And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom. Let it be_. "

“You got an awful nice voice, Randy,” I said. He laughed at that. 

"Nah, you're just saying that." 

"You do! I mean it. I bet you could be a singer if you wanted." He pulled his arm off my shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I bet you'd sell out huge concerts if you did." His smile changed from a goofy grin to small and bashful. I kept talking. "You could be as big as The Beatles or The Beach Boys or any of those bands on the radio." I saw him grin again before he turned his head away. I wondered if he was blushing. After a moment or two, he ran a hand through his hair and looked up at nothing in particular. 

"Well, if you think that—" he said, clearing his throat to try to bring back his cool demeanor, "maybe I'll take the chance. Don't worry, I'll remember you when I'm famous," he joked. "Maybe I'll even keep you around, I'll need someone to write my life's story down." 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"Pony, ain't you a writer?" Randy asked. 

"Writer? Well, not really, most writing I've done is essays for school."

"Didn't you write that long ass theme for english though? I heard it was like a novel, being as long and exciting as it was." 

I furrowed my brow. "I guess I did, yeah."

"I thought maybe you'd kept that up or something. You wrote one book, why not write another" 

I scratched my head. "Nah, I really hadn't. I guess I haven't had anything happen to me worth writing about since then." 

"You don't have to write about your own life. All you gotta do is tell a good story. I bet you'd write good fiction." 

I didn't say anything. I'd never really thought about any of that before. I didn't even think about how long that paper was when I wrote it. I just wrote it and let my pen explode every one of my thoughts onto the page as I did. Writing it was like patching yourself up after getting your ass kicked. Cleaning the cut on your head and slapping a bandage on it while wincing over your busted ribs. It hurt, but it was easy to do because doing it meant that pain was gonna go away. It was automatic. It was part of what I needed to do to stop hurting. So I did it. I didn't think myself a writer anymore than I did a medic. 

I didn't get out of my own thoughts again to respond before we made it to the dock. People called out to Randy when they saw us, bringing me back down to reality. Diana shouted out my name and gestured to the seats she'd set up beside her. 

There weren't any fireworks from the other side of the lake that night after all. We didn't mind though.

***

I started spending a good amount of time with Randy those next couple of days. He'd invite me along on whatever adventure he'd planned and that's how we'd pass most of the day. It wasn't even doing anything, some days. On Monday, he picked me up, and then we just sat in the park and smoked for a while. Afterwards, I'd shuffle around at home for a while—long enough to ask Sodapop about his day or appease Darry's frustration with me going out without much of a word—until Randy pulled up out front and honked again. It was a nice little tango we'd fallen into, like we'd been doing it for years.

_Wednesday, June 3, 1970._

Randy laid on the horn, just as he always did. I grabbed my jacket, perfectly content to go along with my new routine and breeze past Darry without saying anything, just like I did every other night. We were planning on heading to Rusty’s; they were playing some lame horror flick. Marty loved any horror movie, and Randy loved picking apart all the plot holes in them. I was just always down to see a movie. 

“You’re going out again?” Darry said as my hand landed on the doorknob. 

I didn’t turn to look at him at first, I just kept pushing forward. “Yeah, I am. I’ll see you in the morning.” I heard him mutter something, about me being gone more than I’m home these days. I couldn’t quite tell what he’d said. I kept my hand on the doorknob but turned to look at him. “What was that?”

“Oh nothin’. Just that you may as well already be gone with how little I see you anymore,” he grumbled, glaring at the TV. I frowned. 

“Sorry that I made friends? What do you want me to say, Darry? Would you prefer that I sat at home and we watched the news together in angry silence all week?” 

“Well, I’d like to at least see you a little. What’d you say, you’re getting that car on Friday?”

“Since when do you care about quality time with me, Darry? We haven’t had a conversation where one of us didn’t end it by slamming a door in months! Can you blame me for not wanting to hang around all night?”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t start getting a tone with me every time I tried to talk to you--”

“I start getting a tone? What do you mean I get the tone? I can’t ask you anything without you starting up about me wasting my life!” I realized I was digging my nails into my palms, I was getting so frustrated. “Ugh, this is exactly what I mean! I can’t do anything without you ragging on me! We weren’t even talking about me leaving this time, I’m just hanging out with my friends like a normal person, Darry! Why is there something wrong with that?”

“I don’t know, Ponyboy! I just....nevermind, go enjoy your night,” he snapped back, waving me away. I opened my mouth to say something back, but Randy honked again. With an exasperated sigh, I turned and left, letting the door slam behind me. I guess my anger was pretty obvious when I slammed Randy’s car door shut behind me as well.

“Hey, man. You alright? You seem kinda….heated,” he asked, eyebrows scrunching up in concern. 

I sighed again, rubbing my forehead. “I dunno, I’m just...ugh…” I couldn’t even find the words. 

"You wanna talk about it at all?" He asked as he pulled off. Next thing I knew, I was on my second cigarette, spilling my guts as we drove aimlessly through town.

“Everything I do, he brings it back to me wanting to leave. If I picked up a few more hours, he’d complain about me always working and that I only cared about getting enough money to leave. When I quit my job he got on my ass for that, telling me I could keep working and make myself a living without ditching town. He acts like me wanting something different for myself is ruining his life or something.” 

“What does he want you to do?” Randy calmly asked.

“I don’t even know. Anything but what I want it seems. If I said I wanted to work instead of college, he'd have a fit about me wasting my potential. If I wanted to go to college, I'm sure it'd be the wrong one. I can't do anything to make him happy,” I paused, flicking the ash off my cigarette out the window. “That's why I'm not even trying anymore." I realized the sky had grown dark as we’d been driving. Randy had come around at 8...I suddenly felt embarrassed. How long had I been ranting about this for? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drop all that on you. I was just still pissed from it and I--”

“Nah, it's no big deal man,” he assured me. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t wanna hear.”

I looked out the passenger window, then at Randy. “We probably missed part of the movie, huh?” 

He shrugged. “I’m not too heartbroken about missing the first 20 minutes of _Bigfoot_ , honestly. Actually, I’d probably be more heartbroken if I had to sit through more than 5 minutes of it.” He looked at me with a smile. I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You’re probably right about that. How good could a movie about a Bigfoot burial ground really be?”

“A Bigfoot burial ground and the preview they showed for it the last time Marty and I went to Rusty’s was nothing but screaming girls. That’s how you know it's not even gonna be scary. I wonder why they never play anything good down there. ”

"Because," I replied. "I thought you knew, it's not about the movie, it's about talkin' to people. Or making out with your date. Like the Ribbon, but you save on gas." 

“Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean they can't play something good every now and again." 

"Maybe _Bigfoot_ is the next greatest film. What if this is the one that's going into western canon, and we're about to miss our only chance to see it on the big screen?" I joked. 

Randy snorted. "If _Bigfoot_ is going to be the new classic, I think we should stop caring about academia." We were sitting at a stoplight now. "You wanna just drive around some more?” He suggested. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” He made a left, completely opposite of Rusty’s, and went back to talking about _Bigfoot_. 

“You know what kills me? The tagline they went with: the greatest monster since King Kong. As if! This thing isn’t even half the size. What damage is it gonna do?”

There was something about Randy that made him real easy to talk to. We drove around at a snail's pace down empty streets, talking about a million things—movies and cars and books and poetry—as if everything we were saying was some kinda revolutionary new thought. It felt like Randy just sorta got me, in a way other people didn't. As we cruised around, I had all but forgotten being upset earlier that night. 

It was really late, I guessed about 2 AM, though it would’ve been hard to read the small clock on the dashboard in the darkness. Our aimless driving through the night ended us up somewhere on the far edges of town, and we were now parked in the lot of some custom furniture place. We were in the back of Randy’s van, the doors propped open. I was sitting with my feet on the ground, staring out at the night sky while he was laying with his feet toward the front of the van beside me. Even though it was cluttered, I had to admit that his set up was pretty cozy looking. A good amount of the back of the van was occupied by a mattress, I think it was maybe a queen. In the rest of the space, he had a bunch of boxes with his stuff. Mostly clothes, there was one with books as well. 

We were pretty quiet for a while, mostly just watching the stars and the clouds that slowly crept across the sky. The night was cool with a breeze that was barely there. 

“Y’know,” I said eventually, “I think I’m gonna miss this when I leave. Hangin’ with you, I mean.” Randy didn’t reply, he just smiled at me. A few more minutes passed without a word. “I’m sorta surprised you even wanted to talk to me again, after everything…If I were you, I'd probably hate me." 

Randy was still quiet for a few moments. I brought my knees up to my chest and turned slightly. He looked like he was really thinking over his response. Propping himself up on his elbows, he finally responded. 

"I guess I sort of thought, we're kinda in the same boat with all of it, y'know? It wasn't your fault that Bob's gone and I—well, I guess I didn't think you blamed me for what happened to your friends…I guess I didn't really know that for sure. I was thinking about it like, we were both sort of...collateral damage." He shook his head. "I dunno. I guess part of it is I've had four years to think about it, too. To come to terms with it." He sat up fully now, putting his elbows on his knees. "To be honest, I was pretty sure _you_ hated _me_ back in the day." 

I furrowed my brow. Even though the memory of everything else that week was still burned into my mind, the emotions and what happened after was always a blur. It was a muddled mess to me even when I was living it. Had I hated him? I remembered when I first started writing it all down, I’d had a grudge against just about everyone under the sun. But at the end? 

“I guess it's hard to really say if you did now, huh? It has been a while. As long as you don’t now, what’s the point of dwelling on it?” He said. My eyes drifted back to the night sky as he went on. “I’m glad that we made something out of everything in the end. Even if it was only for a little while.”

“What do you think you’ll do after this?” I asked. 

“Not sure. Maybe what you’re doing. Now that my parents aren’t gonna drag me home again,” he said. “I got nothing here but my folks and people who remember me as ‘that rich kid from high school’, and I’d kinda like to see what else is out there.”

“Maybe we should just go together,” I joked. He chuckled, and then it was quiet for a moment. 

Then, suddenly, “What if we did?” 

I looked over again, confused. “Huh?”

“What if we left town together? I already got a car, you’d have a little more cash, plus what I’ve got saved.” 

“Are you being serious?” I honestly couldn’t tell.

He nodded. “Yeah, of course I am! It makes sense to do, I think. We’re both gonna do the same thing, why not just do it together? Then we wouldn’t have to throw away this thing we’ve got going.” He furrowed his brow. “Maybe you’re thinking that’s a weird idea since we just started hanging out last week.”

“No, no, not at all, man,” I said. “That makes total sense. Besides,” I added. “Road trips are more fun when you’re not alone.”

“So we’re doing this?”

“Absolutely.” 

“What’s our plan?” he asked. "Are we ditching town tonight, keeping them all guessing?" he said, clearly joking. 

“I was hoping to leave on Friday, as long as my car drove. We could still leave then.”

"Sounds good to me. Means we can have one last fire with everyone." He turned himself to face the outside, gazing up at the night sky. "Should we maybe head back?" I shrugged, letting my feet hit the ground again. 

We drove back into town at the same lazy pace we’d taken all night. It was pushing 3 AM now, but it wasn’t like I was in any kind of hurry. The conversation was barely there, but the silence was comfortable this time. As we pulled up in front of my house, I noticed Darry wasn’t up waiting for me, for once. I didn’t expect him to be, though.

“Wait,” Randy said as I reached for the door. He motioned for me to give him my arm. I rolled my eyes and held it out to him. He grabbed his marker from his pocket and started scribbling something on my wrist. When he was done, “See you soon” was written in messy capitals, a smile drawn at the end. I laughed to myself, then hopped out of the van, giving him a quick “G’night,” as I did.

***

_Thursday, June 4, 1970._

I wandered to the kitchen at almost noon the next morning, barely awake as I poured myself a bowl of Cheerios. I lumbered into the living room, planning on watching whatever bland soap opera was on while I ate my breakfast. 

"Mornin' Sodapop," I yawned. Then I stopped, blinked, and looked again. My eyes hadn’t deceived me, Soda was sitting on the couch, watching the mid-morning news. "Wait, ain't you supposed to be at work?" 

"I've got the day off," he said with a grin. 

"Since when?" I was trying to remember when the last time Soda had a weekday off that wasn't a holiday. 

"Since I called in sick this morning. Pony you're gonna be leaving, I gotta spend as much time with you as I can before you go off to find yourself or whatever." I sat down beside him on the couch. “Don’t tell Darry I faked sick this morning, though. He’d have my head, probably go on about how I shouldn’t waste my sick days or whatever.”

I snorted. I thought it was funny that he’d get the idea that I, of all people, would tattle on him to Darry. “I didn’t plan on it.” 

"What do you want to do first?" He asked. 

I shrugged. "Eat my Cheerios and watch _The Days of Our Lives_ ," I answered, stifling a yawn.

Sodapop playfully punched me in the shoulder and shouted "Lame!" I rolled my eyes and shoved a spoonful of cereal in my mouth. "Don't tell me you'd rather watch the soaps than hang with me!" 

"Dude I just woke up, cut me some slack," I said between chewing. "I was out till 3 AM, lemme wake up a bit." I looked over and he was giving me a stupid pout. I realized he was sitting there in a tee-shirt and boxers still. "Soda, you’re not even dressed yet, anyway!" 

“That don’t mean nothin’. I can get dressed in a matter of minutes. You said you wanna sit around and watch TV instead of doing something fun,” he said in a phony upset tone. I gave him a small shove.

“Get dressed and let me watch this, then we’ll talk,” I said. He stuck his tongue out at me for a second before his expression melted into a sincere smile. Then, he left me on the couch. The anchor gave his final words about some overly-cushy story about a local business or something, and the preview for today’s episode of _The Days of Our Lives_ followed it. I only half-understood what was happening. Soaps always had too many plots going at once for my taste, and it drove me crazy trying to figure out who, what, where and why. 

“So what’s happening anyway?” Soda, who’d come back dressed and was sitting next to me now, asked. 

“Well, I guess Bill’s trying to get parole, or something. Yesterday I guess Mickey and….Lauren? No, Laura, they were acting real uptight about that idea. I’m not sure why.”

“What’s Bill in jail for?” 

I shrugged. “He like...murdered Kitty or something? I haven’t been watching very long, I don’t really know exactly what happened.” 

“Who’s Kitty?” I just shrugged. She’d died before I started tuning in, and I hadn’t bothered to look for an old TV guide to find out. "I never got the excitement about this stuff. Too many characters, too many plots, too many—" 

I threw a pillow at him. "Too many words coming outta your mouth," I said, half joking. "If you talk over it, you're only gonna be more lost." 

By 2, Soda and I were walking…somewhere. The sun was blazing down on us today, making it feel 5 degrees hotter. 

"Where are we even headed?" I asked again. Soda didn't answer, just gave me a grin in reply. I frowned. Though I realized, as we went on, where we were going. The neighborhood was looking very familiar as we passed through an alleyway and turned a corner. This was the shortcut to… “Why are we goin’ to Steve’s?”

“Oh, uh,” there was a sense of uncertainty in his voice, “You’ll see. Don’t worry about it, Pony!” He deflected. 

“Soda…” He just smiled again and sped ahead of me. I rolled my eyes, picking up the pace. When we got to Steve’s, Soda didn’t even need to knock before Steve opened the door. 

“I only got fifteen more minutes of my lunch break, y’all better make it quick,” he said immediately.

“Well, hello to you too, Steve,” Soda replied. “Sorry, it took a bit to get down here without the Ford.” 

Steve sighed, and dug around in his pocket. After a moment, he handed a pair of keys on a little yellow keychain to Soda. “Make sure you take off your boots when you get in there, the landlord doesn’t want the wood floors fucked up or nothin’. And--" he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, "lock up when you're done. Technically I'm 'sposed to show you around the place, but I gotta get back to work." 

"Thanks, Steve," Soda said. 

"Yeah, yeah," Steve started walking out to his car. 

"What's this all about?" I asked finally, as Steve' s car revved and he pulled off. Soda didn't answer me still, just started walking off to the back of the house. I followed after him. "Seriously, Soda, what the hell are we doing?" 

"We're going…" He opened the back door, leading to a small hallway and a set of stairs. "Upstairs."

"Okay...but why?" I could tell Soda was trying to pull some kind of trick on me here, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. Steve rented the first floor, and the top floor had been vacant for about a month now. Once again, Soda didn't answer. He motioned for me to follow as he hurried up the stairs. I kicked off my shoes on the landing at the top while he fumbled with the keys. I pursed my lips. He opened the door with a flourish and stepped inside. I reluctantly followed after him. 

The apartment on this floor was pretty much the same as the one downstairs. The only difference was that in this one, when you step inside the kitchen is immediately on your right instead of the living room. Otherwise, it was just the same as Steve's. One bedroom, one bath, a small kitchen and a spacious living room. 

"Pretty nice, huh?" Soda asked with a cheesy grin. 

"I guess it's alright, yeah." I put my hands in my pockets as I looked around with little interest. 

“Perfect set up for someone’s first place if you ask me. Perfect place to...start learning to live on your own, y’know?” He went on.

“I guess…” I replied. “But why are we looking at it?” Soda still didn’t answer. Instead, he tested out the faucet and investigated the cabinets in the kitchen. I was convinced he was showing me this place in hopes I’d have an abrupt change of heart and I would decide to stay. Of course, he wasn’t going to come right out and say it. I think he was trying to coax me into having the idea on my own, because I hadn’t cared to listen to any of the other times they’d try to suggest it. 

"And y'know, it's kind of a steal, too. Rent's only $68 a month, not counting utilities or nothin that is. You could have a place like this even if you were just...I dunno, bagging groceries or something till you found your footing,” he said.

I suddenly got an idea of how I could get him to come right out and tell me what he was doing. “Yeah, or with the job you’ve got now, Soda! I bet you could rent this place without even needing that promotion," I suggested. A look of surprise briefly twisted his expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but I went on before he could. “It really is a nice place, and you’re right above Steve, it’d be like living with your best friend.”

“That’s not what I--”

“And you’re still pretty close to Darry, it’d be a nice transition and all…”

“I wasn’t looking at this for--” It was working.

“Y’know if you wanted me to come look at an apartment with you, you could have just come out and said it. I wouldn’t have said no,” I said. Soda was furrowing his brow, waiting for me to stop so he could tell me what I already knew. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Well, the thing is Ponyboy, I wasn’t lookin’ at it for me…” 

I dropped my jaw open in feigned surprise as I turned to look at him, then rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know that Sodapop. You weren’t exactly being subtle about the whole thing.” I leaned back against a wall and glanced around again. “Did you really think I was just gonna change my mind like that?” Sodapop frowned.

“I dunno...I thought it was worth a shot,” he sighed. “I just think it’d be worth your while to get an apartment or something if you really wanna be independent so bad, kid. You can get your distance from us and act like a grownup here and now if you wanted. I don’t understand why you gotta pack up and leave town to do that.”

“It ain’t an acting independent thing, Soda,” I tried to explain. “The reason I’m leaving ain’t ‘cause I want y’all to think I’m an adult.”

Soda lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, then why are you leaving then?”

I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. The words didn’t sound right as they floated to the front of my mind. I wanted to leave because I felt like there was nothing for me here but ghosts and bad memories. I barely had any real friends, to be honest, just Soda’s friends who grew up and started drifting away. The house was always so tense...nothing felt right here. Even though Tulsa was a pretty damn big city, I felt like I’d exhausted everything it had in store for me. But I couldn’t figure out how to say that out loud. With a sigh, I simply said, “It’s complicated.” 

When I did, he let out an exasperated huff and crossed his arms. “It’s complicated? You’re gonna drive out of here with no plan, or job lined up, or place to stay, or even destination in mind all ‘cause it’s complicated?”

“Sodapop…”

“Maybe Darry’s got a point when he says you don’t use your head when it matters.”

“Hey, now hold on--” 

“Well, what do you want me to say about it, Ponyboy? I don’t want you to leave like this, and you haven’t even given me a real reason that you’re doing it,” he blurted out. The harshness of his tone surprised me, making me jump to attention. He rubbed his face with one hand. “I’m sorry, Pony, but I think the whole damn thing is ridiculous. I want you to be happy, but I think you’re gonna back yourself into a corner you can’t get out of if you do this.” I frowned and started trying to defend myself, but he wasn’t done. “Darry and I have been at each other’s throats about this whole thing for months. I don’t think I’ve told you that.” 

I furrowed my brow. I was trying to imagine them fighting in the same way I always did with Darry. I’d only ever seen them get into little arguments here and there, nothing like fights ending with slammed doors or one of them so mad they feel like they’re gonna cry. 

“He has been wanting me to put my foot down and make you stay here, ‘cause he thinks you’ll listen to me, y’know? He doesn’t know how to get through to you at all, Pony. But I didn’t want to force you to do anything. I thought you would come around eventually,” he focused his attention on the pair of keys in his hand and sighed again. 

“I just…” I tried to organize my thoughts to say something meaningful in response. “I need to do this for me,” was the best I could muster. And it sounded really shitty. I couldn’t tell what it was that he felt at that moment. Something between anger and crushing disappointment flickered across his expression for a split second.

“Yeah. That’s what you’ve been telling us.” He looked down at the floor. He might have been blinking away a tear, but I was too ashamed to look at him right then. “Let’s get going. There’s no point in sticking around.”

Soda placed the keys in Steve’s mailbox before we started off walking again. Neither one of us said anything for quite a while, and the tension continued to hang between us. Soda looked straight ahead, expression still gloomy as before. My eyes darted around at just about everything. I didn’t know what to look at, or if I should have said something, or if I was waiting for him to say something first. The tension was starting to feel like it was anchoring itself in my chest and weighing me down. I needed to think of something to say to get rid of it. 

We turned a corner. We weren’t taking the short way home. I wasn’t sure if that was making it all worse. 

“Hey, Ponyboy?” Soda finally asked. I don’t think I’d ever been so glad to no longer be left alone with my thoughts. I turned my head toward him, raising an eyebrow. “When are you planning on picking that car up? I know it’s tomorrow, but what time?”

I panicked for a second. I wasn’t picking it up at all anymore. That idea had been completely scrapped in favor of going with Randy, and I had been planning to call the guy who’d been hanging onto that thing for me to tell him to give it to the next guy today. I considered coming right out and saying it, but something was telling me that wasn’t a great idea. If they thought me going on my own was a bad idea, imagine the fight that’d come from me going with some guy I started talking to a week ago. “I was thinkin’ about 3, 4 o’clock, probably,” I lied. Soda nodded, and then it went silent for a while longer. 

“Ponyboy?” He asked again. 

“Yeah?”

“Will you at least be sure to call home every now and again?”

A small smile spread across my face. “Of course, Sodapop.” His smile mirrored mine, and it almost felt like nothing had ever happened.

“We’ve still got quite a bit of day left, wanna find some fun?”

“What do ya got in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking, y’know that little convenience store down a few blocks?”

“The one with the claw machine?”

“Yeah, that’s the one…” 

We hung around and blew quarters on that rigged claw machine for an hour before we got bored and started walking home. In that time, Soda also managed to lift a deck of cards and a lighter. I got after him for it, but I thought it was funny more than anything. He said he’d done it for old time’s sake. The Ford was parked out front when we got home. 

“Where have you two been?” Darry asked as we walked in. 

“Oh, just out and around, Superman,” Soda said. He ducked around him, heading straight for the kitchen. I was planning on heading the same direction, after not eating anything since noon. “Darry, you brought home Dairy Queen?” Soda asked, seeing the to-go bags sitting on the table. 

“Yeah, well, I got off work on time for once, and I figure, you had today off, and Pony was sure to be home…”

“Oh, glory I didn’t even realize we were all home for dinner for once!” Soda finally realized. 

“That’s what I was tryin’ to say,” Darry laughed. “I knew that we would be, but Lord help me if you two were expecting me to cook after the day I had at work…”

***

Randy laid on the horn again. One last hurrah before I left, one last bonfire with his crew. Just like every other night these past two weeks, I grabbed my jacket from the back of the couch where I’d thrown it the night before and headed for the door. I was only about half way to the door before--

“Hey, Ponyboy?” Darry said from the couch. I stopped and looked at him. 

“Yeah?” I asked. I started putting my jacket on, trying to signal that I was trying to get out of here while emotions were still warm between us.

“I, uh,” he scratched the back of his head, fumbling with what he wanted to say. I smiled at him expectantly. “I’ll keep the light on for you.” And then he went back to his book.

My smile dropped. “Right, thanks Darry.”

I’m still not sure what I was expecting. An "I'm sorry about last night"? An “I’m gonna miss you”? Maybe an “I love you, kid”? I don’t know. But after months of fighting over this, knowing this might be the last time I saw him in a while, I expected something more. Not “I’ll keep the light on.” As if I was just going out for the night and I’d have to get up and go to work tomorrow.

I closed the door behind me, not letting it slam this time. I saw Randy start waving as I walked out, then quickly toss the stuff on the dashboard into the back before I got in. I chuckled a little. 

“Hey man,” he said. He looked a little concerned as I got in. “You alright?”

I guessed that my disappointment was still reading on my face. “Oh, yeah it's nothin’, don’t worry. Just…thinking about something is all.”

He nodded. “I got you.” He drummed his hands on the steering wheel, then grinned at me. “Ready for your last night in Tulsa?” 

I smiled back. “Hell yeah I am.”

***

_Friday, June 5, 1970._

Even though I had been dead tired when I got home the night before, I woke up at 9 the next morning. Just late enough to miss Darry and Soda leaving, but way too early to wanna do anything meaningful yet. I had been hoping to wake up at more like 11 so I could roll out of bed, throw on my clothes and walk out the door when Randy showed up at noon. The knowledge that I was leaving soon, but still had to wait, filled me with too much nervous energy to roll back over and fall back asleep. I stared at the ceiling for what felt like an hour, until I eventually glanced at the clock. It read 9:12. I groaned. This was gonna be a long three hours. 

Kicking away the blanket I’d hardly had over myself, I forced myself to get up. There was no point in just laying there. I rubbed my face and blinked a few times. Scrawled on my wrist was "See you soon!" with a tiny smile at the end. I couldn't help but smile back at it. Today was the day. 

By the time I showered and was dressed, it was nearing 10. I was dragging my feet as I went, trying to take up more time than I needed. I needed the time to pass quicker. I was itching to leave. 

I kept up the leisurely pace as I got my breakfast, then sat myself down on the couch with my bowl of cereal to watch daytime Jeopardy. 

Art Fleming gave the next question. _"Better known for his performance as the troubled teen Jim Stark, this actor was the first to receive an Academy Award posthumous for his role in Giant."_

"Easy, James Dean," I said with a mouth full of food. 

The contestant in the center hurriedly smashed his buzzer. _"Who is James Dean?"_

_"James Dean is correct."_

"Easy." I could be on Jeopardy, I thought to myself. 

_"Same category, $800, please."_

_"Originally from Omaha, Nebraska, this method actor is said to have changed the way Hollywood works with its stars. He is best known for portraying 'sensitive, moody young men,' in the films I Confess, The Young Lions, and The Misfits."_

"Marlon Brando," I answered immediately. 

The first contestant buzzed in. _"Who is Montgomery Clift?"_

"Wrong," I said with a smirk. 

_"Montgomery Clift is correct." _I furrowed my brow and took another bite. Ah, it was one question. No one plays a perfect game. I was sure I was still Jeopardy material.__

__I got the next three questions wrong. I then decided that it was the perfect time to double check my things, make sure I had everything. Because it was getting closer to noon, not because I was losing at Jeopardy, I swear. I shut off the TV and headed to my bedroom._ _

__I had the bulk of it already packed. I'd started the previous week, just to make sure I wouldn't forget anything. Darry was always saying I'd forget my head if it wasn't attached to my shoulders. It was better safe than sorry, giving myself plenty of time to say "oh, dammit!" before I was 50 miles from home. What was left to pack was mostly the odds and ends I used every day. I fluttered around, checking every drawer twice just in case._ _

__The box was jutting out from under my bed again, I practically tripped on it a couple times. As I gathered my things, I kept finding my gaze drifting to it again and again. I wasn’t going to bring that stuff. I was leaving it behind. No point in bringing along some old schoolwork and a book I didn't read._ _

__Well...._ _

__As I stuffed my lighter in my front zipper pocket, I was staring at the stupid box. Next thing I knew I was pulling it up onto the bed. I unfolded the shirt, looking over everything carefully. _Gone With the Wind_ was still practically brand new. Something about reading that copy….it had felt wrong. I don’t think I ever actually finished the book. I dropped the pack of cards back into the box and turned my attention to my suitcase. I pushed my clothes to the side the best I could and slid the notebook in on one side and the book on the other. I kicked the box back under the bed and threw the flannel over my t-shirt. I swear, as I did, the smell of smoke filled my nose. Though it might have just been the association. You’d think that the smell would fade after four years. _ _

__I glanced at the clock one more time, then hauled my things to the front of the house. With a half hour left, I was pretty much set. I was ready to leave. Start anew. Except… Something felt wrong about leaving without saying goodbye. We were leaving midday to be out of town before it got dark. But I never told my brothers that. We'd done all the dances, the sentimental storytelling and the spending more time together than usual, but no one had said goodbye. No one admitted I was leaving today. We'd gone on like that was just another day and today would be too. My stomach started twisting up in guilt. A note, I thought, I'll write a note. It'd be better than nothing._ _

__I quickly snatched up the notepad Darry'd left on the table and went rooting around for a pen. Then I sat at the kitchen table, flipping to the next clean page. I stared at that blank page, waiting for the right words to come. I clicked the pen over and over._ _

_Darry and Soda,_

I finally penned. But I couldn't figure out how to write what I meant to say. 

_If you didn't notice, I'm gone already._

I scribbled that out...and then wrote it again. 

_If you didn't notice, I'm gone already. I'm sorry I left without a word, but we wanted to leave soon enough to be out of town before the sun set. You guys remember Randy, right? I've been hanging with him all week. Well, we decided to do this together. He's already got a car, and we figured we'd have more cash between us. I'll try to call when I can. I'll miss you._

_Signed,  
Ponyboy._

I put down the pen and considered rewriting it, but before I could, Randy honked outside. I read it over one more time before I got up and started out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello thank you for reading i hope you enjoyed, sorry this chapter took so long to get out. some things happened, i was going through it, ect ect ect now im back. i hope the length made up for it. the next chapter will probably be a little shorter. hopefully.
> 
> shout out to chris for naming this chapter! and as always shout out to my fish sinclair for listening to me proofread this. this may be the last time he gets a shout out because i have to give him to my brother when i move for college in like two weeks :( he's been the best **betta** reader i could ask for xx

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you for reading the first chapter of this. i PROMISE i'll actually finish this one this time. i swear. i have the whole thing outlined and everything, so there's no way its gonna go wrong like the last time i tried to write a chapter fic. i'm really excited about this fic too, so i'm really motivated to get it written. anyway, i hope you enjoyed, lemme know what you thought! :squid:
> 
> quick shout outs hold up: shout out to my fish sinclair for listening to me proofread this chapter.


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